


Let Me Take A Ride (Don't Cut Yourself)

by IzzieTheEnamored



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst, Bottom!Sam, Dream Sex, Implied Incest, M/M, Wet Dream, fantasies, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-05 23:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IzzieTheEnamored/pseuds/IzzieTheEnamored
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It builds like an itch under his skin, down where he can't reach it. An itch to </i>touch<i> and </i>taste<i> and </i>feel<i> and </i>take<i> An itch that only one person can scratch.</i></p><p>Sam Wesson pays to fuck Dean Smith and feels guilty about it. Basically shameless PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Take A Ride (Don't Cut Yourself)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote an AU fic about AU characters...is that even possible? 
> 
> Warnings: men fucking men. Angst. Self disgust.

He shouldn't _want_ this. He has a life, a very good life with a beautiful wife and three beautiful children. He shouldn't keep coming back. He should be able to _stop_ this. But he can't. It builds like an itch under his skin, down where he can't reach it. An itch to _touch_ and _taste_ and _feel_ and _take_. An itch that only one person can scratch. 

When he enters 'Massage Heights' the secretary, Bobby, gives him a sympathetic look. Like he's been in the same place; like he knows the shame and defeat. 

"The usual?" Bobby asks casually. Sam swallows the shame hot lump in his throat so he can answer.

"Ma--maybe a little longer this time?" he suggests. Bobby raises an eyebrow and Sam resists the urge to roll his eyes. This is so ridiculous and wrong and he shouldn't be doing this but he _is_. "I have the money." Sam tacks on.

"I know that, boy. Now hurry on back, I'll give you an extra twenty minutes." Bobby says, waving his hand dismissively. Its generous, but still not enough. Never enough. Sam clenches his fists and fights against the rising tide of greed. He's asked for far too much already. Bobby reads his mind and adds softly, "Dean's pretty busy tonight. Maybe next time?" Sam nods and waves before sweeping through the silky curtains that separate the lobby from the 'massage' area.

He follows a familiar, winding hallway. When he finds the silk ensconced cubby he's looking for, he pauses to take a deep breath. This is too much, way too much, and that's probably why he keeps coming back. He slinks through the curtains and pretends that his stomach isn't roiling with a mixture of arousal and anticipation.

The only light inside the curtains is provided by a set of flickering candles. Sam sees Dean's shadow, flowing like lava against the curtains, before he sees Dean himself. He's positioned the way he always is, naked on a mound of soft pillows. His nude limbs are sprawling, graceful and purposefully inviting where they rest against deep red cloth, and his soft cock lies like a treasure against a well muscled thigh. He looks up at Sam from underneath kohl lined lashes and his sinful lips twist in a stomach churning smirk. 

"Mr. Wesson, you came back." Dean says. He sounds so nonchalant and unimpressed; like Sam's return was inevitable (it was, but he couldn't have know that; Sam waited a lot longer this time). Sam feels the familiar bile of shame in his throat at Dean's use of his last name. That's his family's name, the name of his wife and children; a reminder of precisely why he shouldn't be doing this.

"I always do, don't I?" Sam ends up saying, distracting himself from his own guilt with a lewd intake of Dean's naked body. Dean smirks again, shifting as his cock hardens in front of Sam's eyes, and Sam's own cock twitches in sympathy. 

Sam knows that Dean's body is trained to have that reaction, but it's nice to pretend. He does a lot of pretending, especially within these thin silk barriers. He pretends that Dean is his and not just paid to fuck Sam. Pretends he's not trapped; pretends  he doesn't despise the existence of the people he's supposed to love. Pretends he's allowed to love the one person he actually wants. 

"Yeah, yeah you do." Dean's voice is soft and he gives Sam a gentle, coaxing smile. Sam takes one last deep breath and dives right in. Teeth clack and lips bruise as he frantically claims what he has denied himself for three weeks. He sinks into the pillows with Dean, bodies molding and heat building. Dean expertly removes his jacket and begins to work at the buttons of his shirt. Sam puts a bit of space between his bodies so he can help. He would really rather not come in his jeans this time. Once they've got Sam naked, they sink back together. This time it's better, _much_ better.

Skin slides against skin and sparks shoot up Sam's spine. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he _wants_. It's always so much more intense than the way he remembers it when he jerks off. 

"Please." he whimpers against Dean's cheek. He can feel Dean's smirk against his collarbone as he lays soft kisses right where Sam likes it. 

"What do you want, baby boy?" Dean asks. Sam jolts and moans. They discovered that one by accident, really. A jumble of syllables spat out in the heat of passion that made Sam shoot his brains out of his dick. Dean has made a point of using the endearment since then. 

"Want you to fuck me." Sam whines. He's sweating and begging and if he wasn't so far gone he would feel sick over his behavior. Dean fishes a bottle out from between the pillows and flips their positions. His muscular thighs frame Sam's thin hips, Sam takes the opportunity to hump his cock against Dean's slick back. Dean shimmies down and spreads Sam's thighs with slick fingers. Sam whines and nips at Dean's soft lips to distract himself. 

"You ready?" Dean puffs against his lips, circling his rim with blunt fingertips. Sam is past the point of being able to form coherent phrases, so he tilts his hips in an invitation. Dean sinks two thick fingers into his ass and Sam sees fucking stars. It's not something he would ever explore on his own, and him and Dean are usually too pressed for time to explore it further, but fuck does Sam love being fingered. Fingering comes second only to actually being fucked with Dean's thick cock. 

Dean has three fingers in him before Sam tilts his hips again and whines against his lips. 

"It's okay. I got you, baby big. So hot, gonna fuck you so hard." Sam squeezes his eyes shut and pretends he didn't pay for this as Dean presses into him with his hard cock. Dean gives him time to adjust because Dean is fucking _huge_. He's almost as big as Sam and Sam is pretty fucking proportional. Sometimes, Sam swears he can feel Dean rearranging his insides so he can fit.

"You good?" Dean asks after a couple of seconds. Sam plants his feet flat and humps back against Dean's cock. Dean gets the message and begins to rhythmically thrust in and out of Sam's clenching hole. He goes on like that, slow and even, for a couple minutes before Sam needs more. He let's out a frustrated huff and rolls them over so he's on top. Dean gives him an amused little smile and grabs Sam's hips so he doesn't overbalance. Sam begins to frantically fuck himself onto Dean's cock. It's desperate and dirty and _almost_ exactly what Sam needs.

 Dean reads his needs and adjusts to them, rolling Sam back over and slamming into him. He has one of Sam's legs over his shoulder so the angle is just right, Dean nailing Sam's sweet spot with every thrust. He sets a relentless pace, pounding into Sam like a jack hammer. It's fast and hard and just this side of painful and this, _this_ is what Sam _needs_.

Pleasure hums through Sam's body and a familiar heat is building in his belly. It takes three more thrusts of Dean's thick cock to put him on the edge. His back arches and his toes curl as Dean presses soft, almost reverent kisses across his jaw and collarbones. And this, _this_ is what makes it all worth it; it makes the lying and pretending and sick feeling in his gut seem insignificant.

"Can you come for me, Sammy?" Dean asks sweetly. It's Dean's voice that pushes him over, sets him off like bringing flame to a firework. He explodes in a whirl of sound and color and feeling. Pleasure engulfs him from head to toe as he coats Dean's chest with thick bouts of come.

 Dean gives him about thirty seconds to come down. And then, like always, he snaps Sam back to reality. He pulls out and rolls the empty condom off. He's soft but he hasn't even come and Sam feels sick as he thinks about what that means. 

"Time's up." Dean says, glancing at his phone and handing Sam his clothes, "Bobby wants you know that it's an extra two hundred this time." Dean adds as Sam struggles into his clothes on boneless legs. Dean holds out his hand and Sam hands him a thick roll of bills from his wallet. Sam watches regretfully as Dean cleans himself up and gets back into his  'come hither' sprawl for the next customer.

 Sam feels the punishing 'what have I done' bile building in the back of his throat. He stumbles out of the massage parlor in a sickened haze. He throws up into a bush in the parking lot and tries to transform back into 'family man' Sam Wesson. The Sam Wesson that does not fall in love with people that he pays to fuck him. The Sam that is in love with his wife and three beautiful kids. The Sam that he'll never be. 

He wipes the vomit from his lips and runs fingers through his sweaty hair. He gets into his expensive sports car and drives home to his family and _pretends_ ; because that's all his life is anymore, that's all he has left: pretending. 

*~*~*~*

In a musky Nebraskan motel, Sam Winchester wakes up with a sharp gasp on his lips. He's sweaty and there's sticky come in his boxers. He stumbles to the bathroom and washes the stale taste of vomit from his mouth and starts the shower. 

He steps under the spray of lukewarm water and tries to forget about his alternate self fucking Dean. Tries to forget how badly these dreams make him want to fuck his own brother. Tries to forget that he's been having the same dream, over and over, for two months. 

**Author's Note:**

> The end.
> 
> I'm really sorry for this. The porny plot bunnies struck and it just happened. 
> 
> Comments? Concerns? Reviews?


End file.
